How to Housebreak Your Team
by Lear's Daughter
Summary: In which Parker gets a pet and the rest of the team has a panic attack.  Silly gen teamfic.


Disclaimer: I don't own _Leverage_.

* * *

Eliot grunted and scooped another shovelful of dung out of the pen. The elephant gazed placidly at him and chewed nonchalantly on a mouthful of hay.

"Next time," he snarled, "Hardison gets to do the dirty work."

"No way, man," Hardison replied. "I can't get blisters on my hands. I need them to do the real work—y'know, the stuff that actually _matters_."

Eliot could picture him clearly, sitting in the zoo director's cushy office and hacking the guy's computer. How hard could hacking really be, anyway? Eliot had mastered Excel a few days ago. He could probably figure out how to do Hardison's job in a few weeks, right? Then he'd kill Hardison and hide the body under a pile of elephant dung. That seemed fair.

"Now, now children." That was Sophie, her voice low and filled with amusement. She had it easy, too. She was off with the director right now, getting wined and dined. Too bad the director was a dude. If it'd been a woman, maybe Eliot could have been the grifter on this one. He could flirt with the best of them.

Nate and Parker didn't reply—but then, they were a little preoccupied with giving the zoo's weekly raptor presentation. Nate, it turned out, knew a little something about falconry (was there _anything_ the man didn't know a little something about?), and Parker had cheerfully volunteered to be his assistant, because, apparently, she enjoyed "playing with little birdies."

Over the comms, he could hear Nate's voice saying, "Now, this beauty is an Amazon parrot. Say hello, Sandy."

"Hello!" squawked the bird.

The audience—which was apparently comprised mostly of small children—giggled madly, making Eliot wince and readjust his earpiece.

"I've got it!" Hardison said. Eliot could _hear_ the guy's fist pump. "Financial records, surveillance reports…hell, there's even some photographs in here that'd get him sent away for life. I'm forwarding everything to the cops now."

"And, I'm afraid that's all we have time for today, boys and girls," Nate announced.

"No!" Parker exclaimed. "We have one more!"

Eliot grinned, leaning the shovel against the wall and stripping off his work gloves as he imagined how Nate's eyebrows must be drawing together in consternation.

"Uh, no. I'm pretty sure we're done," Nate replied. His voice said: _Parker, what the hell are you doing?_

"Lucille 2.0 and I are out of here," Hardison reported.

"I just ditched Marsters," Sophie added. "I'll see the rest of you at Nate's."

"We have to show them Sophie," Parker hissed.

"Sophie?"

"That's what I named the bald eagle."

"Parker," Nate muttered, quietly enough that the audience wouldn't be able to hear, "I'm not qualified to handle a bald eagle."

Apparently he was too late, though. There was a loud screech, a squawk that could only come from Nate, a loud "Oooooh" from the kids, and then the sound of Parker's maniacal laughter.

Yeah, Eliot wouldn't have traded places with Nate for the world.

* * *

Eliot was leaning against the car, drumming his fingers impatiently on the trunk, by the time Nate and Parker showed up. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or appalled by the long scratch across Nate's cheek, undoubtedly a gift from an irate eagle. Nate was clearly furious with Parker; his jaw clenched, his steps jerky. Parker, as usual, seemed oblivious.

"You okay, Nate?" Eliot asked. He'd been on the wrong side of Parker's craziness enough times to know that, hilarious as it could be, it could also result in painful bruises and scrapes.

Nate grunted something that could have been "fine," jerked open the driver's side door, slid in, and started the engine. He barely waited for Eliot and Parker to get in before slamming on the accelerator.

They reached McRory's in record time. Nate stormed out of the car. Eliot and Parker followed at a more normal pace.

"I think Nate's mad," Parker confided.

"I don't blame him," Eliot said. "You've got to _think_, Parker. One of these days you could get one of us killed with your little shenanigans."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her face more vulnerable than he liked. There was something wrong with her, Eliot knew, but it wasn't her fault she was that way.

He sighed. "It's no biggie, Parker. Nate's fine."

"Nate can _hear_ you," Nate snapped over the comms. "Get your butts up here—it's Eliot's turn to cook, and I'm hungry."

"You go on," Parker told Eliot. "There's something I've got to get out of Lucille 2.0."

He shot her an unfriendly look. "Don't you dare take off," he said. "It's your night to wash the dishes."

She grinned. "I'll be right up, I promise. I've got a surprise."

"Surprise?" he demanded, alarmed. "What surprise?"

She jogged towards the parking lot.

"What surprise, Parker!" he shouted after her, but she just ignored him.

He found Sophie, Hardison, and Nate waiting for him in Nate's apartment. Nate was on the couch, whining like a little baby as Sophie cleaned the scratch on his cheek. Hardison was sitting at the kitchen counter munching on Cheetos.

"You'll ruin your appetite," Eliot scolded, whisking the bowl of Cheetos away and smirking as Hardison protested. He went to the refrigerator and located the steaks he'd tucked away that morning, laying them out on the cutting board.

"None for me, Eliot. I'm afraid I ate with Marsters," Sophie said, dabbing at Nate's cheek with a damp cloth. "Quit squirming, Nate!"

"It hurts," Nate said, dodging her hand long enough to take a deep sip of whiskey.

"This is why we don't let Parker play with sharp weapons," Sophie lectured. "Such as eagles."

"That was _not_ my fault," Nate said. "Parker—"

"Look what I got!"

The team turned as one to stare in horror at the open door. There stood Parker, looking more gleeful than she'd been since the time she picked all of their pockets, switched around all the credit cards in their wallets, then gave them back without any of the team noticing. And there, at her feet, stinky, hideous, and completely out of place, was what looked like a dog-size rat.

"Parker," Hardison said. That was it. Just, Parker. As if he just didn't have the words to say anything else.

"What the hell is that?" Eliot demanded, changing his grip on the knife he'd been using to slice the steak.

"It's a capybara," Nate said, standing slowly and pressing his hand to the Band-Aid on his cheek. "Parker, what is it doing in my apartment?"

"I stole it!" she said brightly, tugging it further into the apartment by a dog leash.

"You stole it," Sophie repeated. Her voice was calm, but from her expression Eliot guessed she was half a step from yanking out handfuls of her own hair.

"You stole it from the zoo," Hardison said. He blinked. "Wait—was that why Lucille 2.0 smelled so weird? Did you put that—that—that—"

"Capybara," Parker said helpfully.

"—that _thing_ in the back of Lucille 2.0?"

Parker pouted, obviously disappointed by their reactions. Eliot wondered what, exactly, she'd _expected _them to say.

The capybara gnawed on the leg of Nate's side table.

"He's my new pet," Parker said. "I'm calling him Nate Two." She smiled hopefully at Nate. "You know, to apologize for getting your face all messed up?"

Nate covered his face with his hand.

"You can't keep it," Eliot said.

"Why not?"

"Because it belongs in a zoo!" Sophie said, shrieking and stumbling back when Nate Two ambled in her direction, trying to sniff her feet.

"Zoos are like prisons," Parker argued. "Prison wasn't much fun, was it, Nate?"

"Are you talking to me or the capybara?" Nate said, his lips twitching. Apparently he'd decided the situation was funny rather than terrifying.

Eliot glanced at the whiskey glass on the table, which had been full and was now empty. That explained why the top of Nate's head hadn't blown off.

"You, of course. The capybara's name is Nate _Two_," Parker pointed out logically.

"Look, Parker," Hardison said. "It's not a good idea for you to have a pet right now."

"Why not?" She patted Nate Two on the head. Nate Two squatted and defecated on Nate's floor.

Sophie whimpered. Hardison gagged.

"'Cause you're not responsible enough to take care of one, that's why," Eliot said. "Pets are a lot of work, Parker. You've always got to make sure they've got enough food, enough water, somewhere sanitary to crap. You can't just take off at a moment's notice and leave them to themselves. And a big pet like that, it's gonna leave a mess wherever it goes, and it's not like you can drop it off at a kennel." He twirled his knife and grinned a little. "Plus, you don't want to know what happens to pets when their owners get hungry."

Parker heaved a sigh. She crouched in front of Nate Two and took his furry face in her hands. "But he needs me," she protested.

"What he needs is a big space of his own, and someone whose job it is to take care of him," Eliot told her.

She looked so crestfallen he almost wished he _could_ let her keep it.

"Look," he said, cringing at what he was about to say. "You can keep him till dinner's over. Then Hardison'll help you return him."

"Wait, Hardison'll what?" Hardison said, backing away.

"Okay," Parker said sadly.

"Hardison's not going to get involved," Hardison insisted.

"You know, he is kind of cute, once you get past the fact that he's a giant rodent," Sophie said, cocking her head as she admired Nate Two from a safe distance.

"Hardison's not getting within a _mile_ of that thing!" Hardison shrieked.

"Eliot, I'm starving," Nate said, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "When's dinner?"

* * *

Balancing the cage on his hip, Eliot used his free hand to wrestle the door open. The apartment was dark; Nate was probably asleep upstairs. Eliot crept in quietly and put the cage on the table against the wall—the same table that would forever bear deep gouges from Nate Two's teeth.

Smirking to himself at the thought of what Nate's face would look like when he came downstairs the next morning, he turned to go, only to halt in his tracks when something in the cage began to make an annoying thumping noise.

Scowling, he hurried back to it and whispered, "Shut up!"

The thumping grew louder. A moment later he heard Nate's foot on the stair. _Oh, great_.

"Who's here?" Nate called out tiredly. He'd told Eliot once that Hardison and Parker sometimes dropped by the apartment at odd hours of the night, too. Eliot, insomniac that he was, usually came by at least twice a week to crash on Nate's floor.

"It's me," Eliot said.

Nate hesitated before coming down the stairs. Eliot was normally so quiet when he came by that Nate didn't know he was there until he got up in the morning and found Eliot cooking breakfast.

"Everything okay?" Nate said cautiously. His hair was ridiculously tousled, his pajamas wrinkled. The Band-Aid on his cheek was loose at one corner. Nate tossed and turned in his sleep most nights. Sometimes he got so loud during his nightmares that Eliot went upstairs and woke him up.

"Yeah. I was just dropping something off."

"Something…" Nate's voice trailed off as he caught sight of Eliot's "gift." "Eliot," Nate said.

"Yes, Nate?"

"What is _that_?"

Eliot followed Nate's gaze. "That?" He grinned evilly. "I call him Sterling."

Nate closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "What is it doing here?"

"Well, I was thinking about everything that happened today," Eliot said.

"And?"

"I think a pet could do Parker some good. Give her some responsibility, something that depends on her. It's good practice, you know? Plus, this fellow can survive a few days—maybe even a week—if you leave him on his own, so he won't starve to death if we go off on a job."

"But why is it in _my_ apartment?" Nate asked, his face pained.

Eliot shrugged. "I don't trust Parker not to kill him."

"And, what? You think _I'm _going to take care of it?"

Eliot raised his eyebrows. "You take care of things, Nate. It's what you do."

Nate grimaced. "I'm going back to bed." He turned around and stomped up the stairs.

Pleased with himself, Eliot headed before the door. Before he got there, the thumping resumed. He glanced at the cage and saw that Sterling was running desperately on the wheel in his cage, the wheel whacking the wall again and again. He'd forgotten that hamsters were nocturnal.

Wincing, Eliot turned the doorknob.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thumpthumpthump._

"Eliot!" Nate bellowed.

Chuckling to himself, he made his escape.


End file.
